“What do you mean, Mr. Ingram?” said Mrs. Lavender, severely.
“Well, supposing she didn’t like you—” he was beginning to say cautiously, when she sharply interrupted him: “She didn’t like me, eh?”
“I said nothing of the kind. I was about to say that if she had thought it her duty to come here, she would have come in any circumstances.”
“She might have done worse. A young woman risks a great deal in running away from her husband’s home. People will talk. Who is to make people believe just the version of the story that the husband or the wife would prefer?”
“And what does Sheila care,” said Ingram, with a hot flush in his face, “for the belief of a lot of idle gossips and slanderers?”
“My dear Mr. Ingram,” said the old lady, “you are not a woman, and you don’t know the bother one has to look after one’s reputation. But that is a question not likely to interest you. Let us talk of something else. Do you know why I wanted you to come and see me to-day?”
“I am sure I don’t.”
“I mean to leave you all my money.”
He stared. She did not appear to be joking. Was it possible that her rage against her nephew had carried her to this extreme resolve?
“Oh!” he stammered, “but I won’t have it, Mrs. Lavender.”